Save Me
by pms.666
Summary: Hermione is thrown into Azkaban with Lucius. full stop.
1. Chapter 1

**Who likes lucius? We love lucius!! and hermione. but not so much.**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

**Disclaimer: i own jackshit.**

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**SAVE ME**

He watched it scurry about the cold stoned floors halting at his feet, starting to nibble through the already ripped soles of his boot.

"Fuck off," he cursed, attempting to shake the scruffy rodent free from his leg as it clambered on.

He pulled back his messy hair that had been unwashed for god knows how long, behind his ears and watched the pest as it scuttled away.

How long had it been? 6 months? 9 months? A year? Maybe more.

He'd lost track of time after a while and who wouldn't after sleepless nights surrounded by the roaming bloodcurdling dementors that robbed the very warmth of the atmosphere and the countless cries and shrieking escaping from the cells.

There he rested amongst the dirt and rubble, carelessly on the corner of the cell, slouching with his legs sprawled, draped in a black dusty cloak.

This was not a stance you would usually find him that was, before he ended up in here.

In his godforsaken, deserted cell almost suffocating with nothing but the breeze that was felt each time a dementor had glided past.

He stared blankly through the heavy iron vertical bars that enclosed him, his eyelids gradually falling to rest.

Why hadn't anyone come for him? Was he a lost cause, useless and forgotten? Where were his fellow deatheaters as they left him to rot here in the depths of Azkaban? How could the Dark Lord leave him be?

"No… please no!"

Footsteps.

Possibly a young girl screaming and pleading with her pitiful cries.

Footsteps. Heavier.

And they halted.

At the front of his cell as they unlocked the rusty chains that kept him in.

This woke him up while two large unsightly men tossed a little limp body with him like that of a child throwing their stuffed toy recklessly around the room.

Her legs and hands slammed severely on the ground preventing her face from hitting and getting brutally harmed.

Her dark curls spilled out before her as her tear-stained face hovered merely an inch above the tip of an old black boot with ripped soles.

Her body shaking at the throbbing pain she was suffering she could still manage to slowly look up at the familiar man observing her.

He brushed a strand of his long blonde hair that curtained his face to reveal himself.

And then she fell flat,

Into a long awaited sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**My sentence structure's all over the place... **

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A couple of hours had gone to which Hermione finally awoke to find herself resting in the same position straining to get off the filthy floor. 

She glanced at Lucius, who barely noticed her, longer and truly for the first time after she had been thrown in his cell, to see him at an amusing state.

He was fooling around with his food, barely taking a bite, he was occupied in observing the thick substance slide on and off his spoon.

Food.

Her stomach rumbled as she scurried to retrieve a bowl on a tray waiting for her.

A bowl of some kind of sordid porridge, she wasn't sure what it was really.

"What is it?" she uttered her first words interrupting the silence.

Lucius remained staring in the full bowl hardly eaten.

"Disgusting," he scooped another spoonful and watched it drip like slimy goo, "muggle filth," he continued causing Hermione to give him the look.

This was Lucius Malfoy… Once a muggle hater always a muggle hater.

"You still haven't changed…" Hermione mumbled about to make an attempt to try the gunk she would be having everyday for the rest of her life, or so she thought.

Though he stayed silent and simply surveyed her, her face starting to shrivel up at the spoonful she placed in her mouth that was impossible to ingest.

"It's gotten cold I guess…"

"It's always cold" Lucius stated swallowing a spoonful with a look that lacked satisfaction.

And so they ate.

Had a few moments where they had to slowly swallow in an attempt to avoid regurgitation.

And no one said a word.

Nothing.

Just eyeing each other, their minds filled with the same questions.

Hermione who hadn't been here for that long at all… already had a taste of what the rest of her life would be.

How long could they keep this up?

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"You look different"

He scrutinized her for a moment. Yes, her physical attributes had changed after their previous encounter. She was a lot slender and taller with relaxed long dark hair spilling streaks of gold. Her face, thinner and the drawn grooves and contours were more distinct.

They sat facing across from each other against the stoned walls, the dim light glowing, enough to illuminate their faces with a haze of blue.

Hermione eyed him noticing the great rips from his cloak and the dirt and dust caught in it. His face revealed cracks of tiredness and his long hair was slightly messy and lacked the usual shimmer.

"And you look terrible"

"Oh thank you, really, for pointing that out," he articulated coolly, "I'd love to see what would become of you after being in here for as long as I have..."

"How long is that?'

"You begin to forget... I, myself, have indeed lost track of time as only expected. You would know... after all you and those stupid friends of yours... are the reason why I'm in here in the first place."

"I'm presuming, almost a year then..."

"Sounds short. Feels like forever. Just you wait and it'll get to you one day."

"Don't remind me. It's already getting to me"

"And you have yet a day to survive."

She could only distinguish half his face, the glint in his eyes and nothing more or less. She couldn't have imagined her and Lucius of all people conversing like almost normal people do.

He was the most famous and fearful deatheater, Voldemort's right hand man. He was a murderer. A murderer.

He hated anything to do with muggles. He was Lucius. Lucius was a Malfoy. And he'd never change. However Hermione could only find his company comforting for the time being.

Hermione thought of something to say. Anything.

"You're family, do you miss them?"

"Are you daft? What do you think?"

What was she thinking? Making small talk.

"Yes well… I'm sorry that was a little stupid I guess… I'm just beginning to miss mine knowing that I probably won't see them ever again as I rot in here for the rats to feast on my deteriorating corpse…" she blabbered glancing out through the iron bars thirsting for freedom.

"Adolescents are so emotional… back to what you were asking me… needless to say I do."

Lucius had the slightest idea why he was mingling with the young woman. She was a mudblood. He didn't want anything to do with her but there was nothing to do, there was never anything to do before she arrived aside from trying to shoo rats away and mull over about the outside after faltering off into slumber.

"Here I wait day after day and still none of my fellow deatheaters have come to break me free. I should be out of this hellhole of a place by now. And yes, I'm disappointed to know that one day all I was ever worth would eventually get sucked right out of me that I begin to consider I'd rather have it sooner than later. I can't stand this place… it reeks of rats."

"But you have for almost a year."

"And if I ever do. Break out. I should question my avail in view of the fact that I have nothing to come home to, therefore if truth be told I have nothing to live for."

"What are you talking about?"

"I hold no doubts that Voldemort has already captured my coward of a son in an effort to make a deatheater out of him. And when he finds out he is of no use, he'll slay him. I'm sure of it if he hasn't already done so, just like how he destroyed Narcissa."

Hermione shrank.

"And what is to condemn but the actions I am liable for."

Speechless for a moment, Hermione purely gazed at the man, pitying him in sympathy. He knew how it felt to suffer loss of someone of close acquaintance with him… But after all the wizards, witches and 'filthy' as he would call it, muggles, this was a man who had slaughtered innocent people mercilessly all through his life. He deserved it and this reminder only angered her.

"Karma," she remarked as Lucius shot her a look of filling rage.

"Don't you think I know that?" He spat, "That's why I've ended up in here waiting, sometimes impatiently, for the dementors and to make matters worse they decide to throw an intolerable child in here with me… I suppose that's quite a reasonable punishment already don't you?"

"I guess it serves you well."

And without further reply silenced ensued.

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**buhahaha.. and there's the second chapter... chaps. REVIEW pls.. honestly. im still thinking of why hermiones in there.. i just liked the idea of her being in azkaban with lucius. but dont fret. i'll think of something. maybe. REVIEWS THOUGH would be good. would be great. **


	3. Chapter 3

**WOOO. sorry for not updating. muahhahaha. thanks for the reviews and the suggestions, they were really helpful :D so thanks.. i just said that. **

**wah wah wah yadiyadiyada here u are.**

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A few days passed, waiting for more days to come. Their previous topic was ignored for quite some time and hadn't been brought up surviving with small talk, remarks here and there and the very silence of boredom whenever they had nothing to say.

Lucius paced the cell, as small as it was there wasn't really any room for such exercise.

"What exactly are you doing?" Lucius asked halting at his feet curious of what occupied Hermione, legs sprawled across the floor.

"Marking," She made a small mark against the wall next to other visible strokes with the rock she was gripping.

"Marking what exactly?"

"Days."

"And it matters because?"

"Five more days" She mumbled ignoring Lucius.

"Till what?"

"Till I'm seventeen"

"Oh. How charming…" he mocked raising his eyebrow in such manner, "funny I actually don't remember how - young I am… haven't been counting I suppose." He smirked.

"This place sure steals your memory and when you soon begin to forget who you are I'll be here to enlighten you."

Facing him she continued, "Lucius Malfoy, around his forties, the most famous or to some, infamous deatheater, a well known mugglehater, obsessed by the hatred towards those who do not come from the purest of blood, who is married and bears a son resembling an arrogant arse last time I checked… simply a replica of his own father."

"Given by your knowledge, it gives the impression that you've already written a book about me, the bookworm you are and as for your lovely description I do believe that you mistake arrogance with confidence,"

"There is a fine line, I'm aware."

"Ah well, a Malfoy's a Malfoy… at least we're not filthy mudbloods."

Those words.

"Filthy? Who are you to say such thing, take a look at yourself first before you make assumptions."

Though she knew he was talking about blood, not hygiene.

"You still haven't changed." She sneered looking intently at him as his shadows devoured her at his tall figure.

"And what made you think I would?" he spat.

"I didn't. Because even though we know you're at the very bottom, the very end, it will never stop you from being that same Malfoy you are and have always been." Hermione spoke, facing down unable to speak to his face as he listened helplessly.

"You're a murderer and you're swollen with pride no doubt. All the lives you took without any sign of mercy or remorse but the very selfishness of whether or not you get a prize out of…" she lifted her head to see the tall figure still towering her… "Spilling blood… I seem to think you could call that… well disgustingly filthy."

The words crept out of her mouth every word stealing his pride yet he listened. She couldn't see his face unaware of the growing anger that was building bricks inside him but she knew he wouldn't settle to be humiliated like this. And she was right. His grasp reached forth in her tangled hair causing a shriek to escape from the sudden pain of being yanked from behind so that she was merely an inch away from his now visible face. They were both standing his fingers still entwined in her tangles, his eyes cold and stern as ever.

"And your prize?" she laughed tauntingly, almost testing him as he tightened his grip, "Oh, I know - a ticket to Azkaban and a dead wife and son, isn't that right?"

Yes. She was right… as always.

"Let go of me!" she squirmed as she struggled from the clasp of his hands, "Let go!"

Her hair loosened. He released turning away headed for the iron bars where he settled his head between two. He needed to get out, needed air. Fresh air. He wondered why he was listening to this child… as if she knew too much.

"And your wife… what happened to her? Do you still bow down to your Lord Voldemort and kiss his feet after what he did to your wife?"

"Enough..." he grasped on the bars firmly.

"Were you there? Were you watching? What did he do?"

"Enough"

"Do tell what happened… Did he just kill her just like that? And what did you do, did you just stand around and watch him do it?

He faced her. She waited for him to burst out in flames, act aggressively, pull her hair some more, yank it along with the rest of herself and severely throw her against the wall to bleed to death, which in that case she wouldn't have mind after all it was a better alternative to what would soon become of her. But he made no move, confusingly enough he just stared down at Hermione, the usual coldness absent in his grey eyes that were now forcefully sedated.

"I said enough" He articulated slowly and carefully and she silenced without rebuttal.

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